


What Means the Most

by Cherikella



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anger, Charles in a Wheelchair, Dealing with being paralyzed, Depression, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Guilt, Happy Ending, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Love, M/M, Modern AU, Pining, Poor Charles, Protective Erik, Rage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherikella/pseuds/Cherikella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles gets hit by Erik Lehnsherr's car and wakes up in a hospital, realizing he can't feel his legs. Will he ever be able to forgive the man who caused this?</p><p>After the accident Charles has a lot of things to get used to. Instead he gets depressed. Erik on the other hand is determined to help him despite his resistance and despite how much Charles hates Erik. Slowly their fighting turns into a beautiful friendship and maybe even more. But Charles can't shake the feeling that Erik's only doing it out of guilt...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story that I edited recently, adding a few extra scenes. I hope you enjoy ^_^

"Yes, Moira, I know I'm late and I'm terribly sorry!" Charles said over the phone, walking as fast as he could. "Could you hold them there for just a few more minutes? Just a few minutes, I promise! I'm crossing the street right now and I'm literally looking at the building! I'm here! I'm basically right he--"

That was the last thing Charles remembered from that day. The rest was darkness.

~*~

When he reopened his eyes the light stung them. He closed them again and let out a moan. His whole body was hurting him. He forced himself to open his eyes again so he could see where he was, to make some sense of this whole thing.

He was in a hospital room. What happened this morning!? Moira! The clients! He looked around for his phone. He had to call her at once and let her know what happened. But what had happened?

He wanted to get up, get dressed, get out of here. He could not.

"I can't--" he whispered to himself. "I can't feel my legs!" he said, panicking a bit now. "I can't feel my legs!" he repeated louder.

Okay, he admitted defeat. It was time he rang for the nurse.

~*~

"You were in an accident, Mr. Xavier." she explained to him again, after telling him in which hospital he was and who were the doctors who admitted him. As if that was more important to him than why his bloody legs were numb! "You got hit by a car."

"I get this." Charles said, getting more and more frustrated. "But why, tell me please, can't I feel my bloody legs?" he was trying really hard to keep his cool. 

“Please, relax, Mr. Xavier." the nurse said once again, talking to him as if he were a child.

"Don't tell me to relax, tell me about my legs!" he insisted, not shouting yet but sounding persistent.

"I will just give you this..."

"No! I don't want any drugs, just tell me about my lee-- oh..." he relaxed his head back down on the pillows, his vision getting blurred.

"It will help you sleep." he heard the nurse say as he was drifting. "The doctors need to run a few tests first and then..."

He could not hear what happens then because he was practically knocked out by the sleeping drug she injected in him.

~*~ 

"Are you feeling better now, Mr. Xavier? Ready to talk?"

Charles sighed with a nod. He was sitting up in his hospital bed now and this time it was a doctor talking to him. The nurse was probably too scared he might use the word 'bloody' again, Heaven forbid.

"Now can I please know more about my condition?" Charles asked. "I'm already late for a very important meeting."

"When was the meeting?" the doctor asked.

"The morning I got hit by a bloody car? You sedated me so I take it I slept the whole day. Which means I missed it! Just perfect." he threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Mr. Xavier," the doctor started, "You were hit by a car two weeks ago. You were in a coma ever since. You woke up yesterday afternoon, at 4:35, and your blood pressure levels were getting dangerous for your health so we had to put you back to sleep to calm you down."

He waited a moment to allow Charles to take all this information in.

"I slept for two weeks?" Charles repeated.

The doctor nodded.

"But I am alright now, right? I almost don't feel that much pain..."

"... because of the painkillers." the doctor supplied helpfully.

"... but I also don't feel my-- " Charles took a deep shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment. This was difficult. This was bloody difficult. "Please, tell me I'm not paralyzed."

The word came quiet from his lips, almost a whisper.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Xavier."

"No. N-no. I'm not. You're wrong!" he said, shaking his head frantically, voice agitated but still not shouting. "You just... don't know these things."

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Xavier." he repeated.

The nurse suddenly appeared nearby with a similar injection in her hand, like she had the previous day. Charles gasped. 

"No, no, don't drug me! I'll be good! I'm good... I'm g-good... " he stuttered, looking at her pleadingly, hands raised up in surrender. She remained in one place and he swallowed, trying to force himself to at least look calm. "I'm paralyzed.” he repeated dumbly, trying to wrap his head around it. “How--" his mouth went dry. He was doing his best to think straight but how does one even do that under these circumstances? He cleared his throat, brows furrowed. "How long will I be-- paralyzed?" 

The word was still so difficult to say. 

"There is a very small, almost non-existent chance that you will be able to walk again." the doctor explained with the calmness of a man accustomed to breaking all sorts of bad news.

Well, that was subtle! Charles laughed hysterically, his eyes tearing up now.

"So this is it? I'm paralyzed at 28?" he heard himself say. He could hardly recognize his voice, it sounded so squeaky as he all but sobbed. "I can't walk anymore? That's it? Life ended?"

"No." the doctor said carefully. "We managed to save your life--"

"Spare me."

"I suggest you see a therapist, Mr. Xavier." the doctor said, getting up from his chair "Many people in your condition find it rewarding."

Charles rolled his eyes, trying to hide the emotional pain he was feeling right now, trying to hold in his tears.  _ Many people in his condition. _ His  _ condition _ ! Until recently he had no bloody  _ condition _ ! And now… Now his life was nothing but a ruin. 

"I can take care of myself, thank you, you've done enough." he blurted out, speaking fast as if someone was chasing him. 

“Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather--” the doctor spoke again. 

“I said thank you.” Charles cut him off. He didn’t want to hear anything more. He heard enough. There was no going back from this. He was paralyzed and that was it. 

The doctor and the nurse left him alone. Like he wanted. He stared blankly at the wall. Then his eyes moved around the hospital room -- unimpressed, empty, terrified, alone -- stopping at every item they found there.  

There were 'wake-up soon' and 'get well' balloons, teddy bears, chocolates, lots of flowers. Of course, he'd been in a coma for two weeks -- enough time to accumulate all that shit in his room. On the nightstand next to him, cleverly hidden behind a flower bouquet, there was a bottle of scotch. A very good scotch too. It attracted Charles’ attention almost instantly. That was the first thing in the room that actually excited him. He pushed aside all the pamphlets the nurse had generously put by his side -- pamphlets about life from a new perspective, and basically a bunch of crap telling him how great being in a wheelchair was going to feel. Lay off! He knew it was going to be bloody horrible! He could do without their lies. He grabbed the bottle of scotch, grateful that someone had put it there, as if a good friend had come to visit.

~*~  

Eventually a good friend did come to visit. Moira.

"Charles! Oh, Charles!" she exclaimed the moment she burst into the room, throwing her bag and her coat on one of the chairs and sitting beside him on the edge of his bed. "You scared us all so much!" she said as she took his hand in hers.

"I'm not dying, Moira." he smiled. "But thank you."

She smiled too, pressing a friendly kiss on his hand, making him feel utterly ridiculous.

"I'm so sorry for missing the meeting!" he said, he had to say it.

"It's fine! Forget that! It's no big deal!" she assured him with care. 

"Moira, I know it was bad I missed it! I was supposed to be the genetics expert and I wasn't there."

"Really, it’s fine! You left all those charts and stuff at work so we managed."

"So it went well? They'd give us a funding to start the experiments?" he asked hopeful.

Moira tensed a bit.

"Well... no." she finally said. "We weren't as persuasive as you would've been. But we got them to agree to another meeting in two months, so."

"Good! I'll be there in two months! We’ll do this right." he said with confidence.

Moira looked surprised and even puzzled.

"I will be there in two months, Moira." Charles felt like he had to reassure her.

"Yes, but--” she hesitated slightly. “Charles, are you sure that in your condition you can come to work so soon?" she then asked.

He could sense how she was trying to be delicate about it. He could sense her concern, her worry and even her pity for him; the thought that his youth was wasted now. He could sense those emotions in her voice as if he could read her mind as an open book. It was humiliating. It was infuriating. He felt rage he’d never known before, never even thought he was capable of. 

"There's nothing so special about my condition, Moira." he said, tensing. "Many invalids go to work. I assure you my brain is not in my legs."

"Of course not, Charles! This is not what I meant at all." she hurried to correct herself. "I was just wondering if you'd be able to recover emotionally from the accident so quickly... You did got hit by a car, after all, and--"

He didn’t need this over and over again, he was aware what had happened to him! His fists clenched tightly by his side. He knew he was being unreasonable. He also knew he'd say something stupid and hurtful if he did not change the subject immediately. So he did, abruptly and a bit snappy, but he did.

"Thank you for all the flowers, balloons and stuff in my room, by the way." he said, forcing a smile. He knew Moira meant no harm. 

She returned the smile, obviously relieved by the change of the subject, too.

"Oh!" she said. "All of us at work just thought we needed to support you when the doctor told us that there was a chance you never... " 

Shit. 

She bit her lip. 

Charles ignored it. 

"Yes, well." he cut her off before she could finish the sentence or feel weird about it. He did not want to hear the pity in her voice again. "I must admit I appreciated the scotch the most!" he chuckled.

Moira’s eyebrows furrowed a bit in confusion as her smile remained on her face. "What scotch?" she asked.

"This scotch." he took the bottle out of its hiding place and she gaped at him in shock.

"Charles!" she exclaimed. "That scotch is definitely not from any of us! We would never... I mean, isn't it dangerous to drink while you're taking medication?"

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "I stopped taking medication a while ago. Only a few painkillers on occasion. I'm mainly here for observation. I assure you this beauty is less harmful to me than those smiley face balloons over there." 

He poured what was remaining of the bottle in a paper cup and offered it to Moira. She shook her head, declining. He shrugged and drank it himself. 

"I guess the doctors must’ve left it then." he laughed and when Moira's face still seemed concerned he added. "There's really no trouble at all. I'm only here for some final check ups and alcohol is definitely not forbidden for me." he looked at the almost empty bottle. "In fact, I think it's recommended." he added quietly.  

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Charles was the first to break it.

"Do they know whose car it was?" he asked, still not looking up from the now almost completely empty bottle of scotch. 

"Yes." Moira replied.

"Oh?" Charles' lips crooked up in a bitter smile. "And?"

"It was a terrible accident really. He was so worried and he even--"

Charles shook his head. "You know what? This was a bad idea. I can't really talk about this yet. I don’t want to hear it. It's too fresh. I-- Will you excuse me, Moira, I think I need to sleep now."

He knew his voice sounded weak, cracking. He tried to control it but it was either controlling his voice or holding back his tears. He went with holding back the tears.

"Of course, Charles." she got up, covering him with the blanket better and fluffing his pillows a bit.  _ Nursing him _ , he thought bitterly. "I will be visiting often." she said.

He nodded and forced another smile to his face. "Thank you. You're a good friend." he said. 

She gave him a squeeze on the hand and headed towards the door when he stopped her.

"Um, Moira?"

"Yes, Charles?"

"You really are a very good friend..."

"Thank you, Charles!" she smiled again.

"... but you need to give me my scotch back." he finished.

"Oh..." she frowned. "You saw that, huh?"

He nodded with a chuckle. "You are not the most subtle of thieves."  

She quickly put the bottle back on his nightstand behind the flower bouquet where he had first found it. 

"I'm still not convinced it's a good idea to leave you here in this hospital room alone with a bottle of scotch." she sighed.

“I'll be fine. I assure you. The scotch is good for me now. Trust me." he said, almost amused at how concerned she seemed. 

"Just don't take it too far, okay?"

"I won't!"

"See you around, Charles."

When he was left alone Charles took the bottle in his hands. There was very little scotch left but that made it even more precious now.

"They won't separate us, old friend." he spoke softly to the bottle, cradling it like a newborn baby.

~*~  

Charles opened his eyes again to see a tall, lean man in a turtleneck and a leather jacket, heading towards the door to exit his hospital room.

"What are you doing here?" Charles asked instantly, trying to sit up a bit and failing.

The man seemed startled to be 'caught in the act'.

"Oh... um, good morning." he said. His voice was nervous, haste, a little accented. If Charles was himself he would’ve even liked it. But things being as they were, all he wanted was to be left alone and not being reminded of what he could never have.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Erik." the man replied, looking as if he did not know what to do with his hands. "Erik Lehnsherr."

"Well, Erik Lehnsherr, care to explain what you're doing in my room?"

The man’s eyes went a little wide as if he’d just realized something. “You don’t know who I am.” he said. 

“ _ Obviously _ .” Charles gritted out. “Now tell me what you’re doing in my room or need I call security.”  

The man cleared his throat. "I came to see how you were feeling." 

"That's very kind of you." Charles said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. "And why?"

There was a moment of awkward silence. Charles had no idea asking a stranger what he was doing in his hospital room would be such a difficult thing to answer.

"I--" Erik Lehnsherr muttered, running his long fingers through his hair. "I'm the guy whose car hit you that day." he finally managed to say.

Charles paled instantly.


	2. Chapter 2

Charles was unable to speak. Erik Lehnsherr fidgeted awkwardly until he finally spoke again.

"I'd better go now." he said. "I've left my number and address for you, so you can find me easily. I am so sorry about this! If I can help in any way--"

"Oh?" Charles cut him off. "Like giving me your spare legs perhaps?" His voice was shaking with anger. This was the man whose careless driving caused this! This was the man who had ruined his life! This was the man who took away his future from him, the man who made him an invalid! How dare he say he wanted to help!?

"I understand this is very difficult for you--"

"Difficult? Difficult." he shook his head, letting out a bitter laughter. "Do you have any idea what you did to me!? Can you even begin to imagine it? Difficult indeed!"

Erik looked down guiltily. "I swear if I could do anything to reverse this--"

"Spare me! I don't want to listen to you talk. I don’t want to hear your voice. I don't want to see the sight of you!” Charles glared at him as he bit out the words. “I don't accept your apology, nor do I need it. All I want is you out of my life!"

Erik swallowed. Their eyes met. Charles was fighting tears of rage, his fingers were clenched so hard into fists around the bed sheet it made his knuckles go white.

Erik nodded, then turned around, opened the door and left the hospital room silently, not looking back.

~*~

"Nurse!" Charles was pressing the button repetitively, intensely and impatiently. "Nuuuurse!"

She showed up shortly. "Is something wrong, Mr. Xa--"

"I need to be drugged!" he said.

"But--"

"That drug you put in me to make me sleep! I want it! Now! Just-- I want to sleep..."

"I can't do this without a proper reason, Mr. Xavier." she tried to explain.

Proper reason? He'll give her a proper reason! He had just met the man who paralyzed him! What better reason was there!?

"I just need something! I need to silence the thoughts in my head!" he gasped, shutting his eyes closed, running his fingers through his messy hair. He never let his hair be so messy, he took pride in his hair. Now he no longer cared. Wasn't this sad? He no longer cared. Everything seemed dull and pointless to him now. "Just give me something! Anything! Please..."

"I'll call the doctor." she said.

"Wait!" Charles stopped her with a sudden movement of his hand "This man... the man who just left the room. Who let him in?"

"I do not let people in, Mr. Xavier. That is not part of my duties." She replied and seeing his eye roll, added. "B-but he visited you every day for the last two weeks while you were in a coma. He even spent a few nights here, reading to you and taking care of you. So I thought he was a friend.” Charles huffed. She blinked confused. “A relative maybe?"

"You are as dull as you look." he spat and immediately regretted it. It was unfair of him to take out his anger and frustration on the poor nurse. It wasn’t her fault he was paralyzed. It was Erik Lehsnherr’s fault. "I'm sorry..." he whispered but in his heart he knew it was too late now. Erik Lehnsherr said he was sorry but that didn’t bring back Charles’ ability to walk. Sorry doesn’t cut it, Charles thought bitterly.

"I'll call the doctor, Mr. Xavier." she said and left quickly.

~*~

"Well, Charles, you're going home now!" Moira was beaming at him and putting the last of his stuff in his bag. "Isn't this exciting?"

Exciting! I'll tell you what's exciting! Not walking, ooh, so exciting! Why don't you all just go fu--

"Charles?" Moira's voice interrupted the destructive line of thoughts that was forming in his mind.

He snapped out of it, blinking and looking back up at her. "Hmm?"

"Going home!" she repeated cheerfully. "Isn't it great?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Moira, I'm being carried there." He said with a purposefully fake smile on his face.

Moira frowned. "Well, yes, but it’s still much better than the hospital.”

He made a face.

“Charles, I understand this sucks for you but at least…” she sucked in a deep breath then sat down on the edge of his bed, placing her hand on his in a comforting manner. “Look, I've prepared a few things in your apartment. It's going to make things easier for you. And I’ll make sure this transition to your new life goes as smoothly as possible. We’re all gonna help you, you know. You’re not alone."

His transition to his new life. Is that what we were calling it now? New life? He bit his lower lip, hard, so he doesn’t say anything rude to her. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. But all this ‘help’ that he suddenly needed was making him feel like shit.

"Right." He nodded, once again fighting the tears in his eyes. "Yes, of course, thank you for your trouble, Moira."

He had to get used to his new position. To thank everyone for the smallest of things that he could no longer do for himself. Like helping him pee, for example. That poor nurse… Charles had to learn to control his temper again.

Moira shook her head, a warm smile on her face. "No trouble at all. That's what friends are for." She squeezed his hand reassuringly and he forced himself into another smile to appease her before she let go.

"Did we take everything?" He asked. "I don't really want to return here any time soon."

"Um, yes." she nodded. "Yes, everything's in the bag."

"Good."

She looked as if something was bothering her and he finally decided that he could not ignore it any longer.

"Is something the matter, Moira?" he asked

"Actually, yes." she said, wringing her fingers.

"... I'm listening?"

She took a deep breath. "Charles, where is Raven?"

Oh. Raven. Yes, that was a question he was not ready for. His younger sister Raven. Where was Raven? Raven was working of course. Raven was in California. Raven was living her life, following her heart. Raven did not know he was paralyzed. She was not his emergency contact so no one had yet told her and Charles-- he could not tell her either, he just couldn't.

"Raven’s fine. Raven is… really upset about what happened, devastated in fact. But we spoke on the phone and she knows I need my space now so I asked her not to come." he lied through his teeth.

Moira looked at him as if she was really not buying it but he insisted so she finally surrendered.

It was better this way. He could not handle Raven too, on top of everything else. What he already had on his plate was enough. He could not deal with Raven's pain as well. She deserved to live happily, ignorant of his misfortune. It was comforting to Charles that he could do at least that for her.

~*~

Boy, it was hard! Harder than he ever thought it would be! And he was aware it was going to be hard.

Getting used to his ‘new life’ was a huge challenge, one he was not prepared for. Moira had, of course, helped a lot, like she said she would. Charles returned to his apartment already reorganized and made more suitable for a wheelchair, so he was actually capable of moving around with relative ease, considering his condition. Learning to use his wheelchair was like learning how to drive all over again. He was terrible at it! Practically hitting every piece of furniture and wall in his apartment. There were marks on the walls and the edges of all the furniture where he had said hello with his wheelchair. Bumping into things was frustrating but his new reality now.

And that was hardly the worst part. There was still learning to use the bathroom in his new situation. There was getting groceries when his building was not really that wheelchair friendly -- he had to speak up about that eventually but he felt too tired to do anything about it. There was the pain in the back from sitting in his wheelchair for too long. There was learning how to shift and sit or lie down on furniture instead. There was the inability to reach the top shelves and get the books and things he wanted. There was his getting sick and cold so easily because his blood circulation was screwed up too due to his paralyzed legs. There were the sore muscles and the tension in his back. There were million of things -- big or small -- that he never appreciated fully before. He now realized how much they meant. It was frustrating that the simplest things were privileges he could no longer afford.

He realized why Moira called it a ‘new life’. He had to learn doing everything in a different way now. He had to learn to cook, clean, look after himself, live in a completely new way. Life from a whole new perspective he had never considered, not really. And that new way was not easy at all, it was difficult. It was depressing. It was suffocating him. If he had known that the simplest of things would become impossible for him to do without struggling, things he used to do without putting much thought into the action. He wished he had appreciated them more. He regretted taking them for granted before. Those precious things were now only distant dreams, memories of another life -- a life that was not his anymore.

Now he had to deal with all kinds of shit on an everyday basis. Some of them he hadn’t even considered as potential problems, not even at the hospital when he was mentally making a list of things he could no longer do as a paraplegic. Things like normal sleeping habits. He was getting horrible back pains if he stayed in the same sleeping position for the entire night. Which meant he had to wake up in pain around 2 or 3 am and shift his body in his bed, rearrange his legs and try to fall back to sleep. This routine alone left him sweaty and breathless, and not in a good way. It was even more uncomfortable if he needed to pee during the night. He hated the whole process of using the bathroom but especially peeing during the night. It was too much work. He tried holding it in but he learned the hard way that this was an even worse idea. He actually wet his bed that night. And that was embarrassing. He couldn’t change the sheets by himself so he just tried to roll over to the dry part of his bed and sleep in his own soiled bedsheets. It was disgusting. The next morning everything was dry but the smell still lingered and Moira had wrinkled her nose several times during her visit. It made Charles red with frustration and embarrassment.

He was a mess, his flat was a mess and he made a mess of everything he touched. Stuff slipping through his fingers because he could not hold them and use his wheelchair at the same time; stuff getting knocked over because he could not move around properly -- he was still a 'terrible driver' and oh, how painful the irony here was! Those things drove him crazy! He found himself angry most of the time. And then just bored and annoyed at everything. He was turning into a grumpy old man at the age of 28. He was pathetic.

Eventually he gave up. He gave up trying, he gave up hygiene, he gave up cleaning the flat, he gave up being tidy, he gave up on himself. It was so much easier to just be indifferent. It was so much easier to feel nothing. It was so much easier to just not care and wait for death. After all, what else was left for him now?

~*~

The doorbell rang. Charles thought it was Moira again. In her capacity as his close friend and a really stubborn person she kept coming to visit him as often as she could to help him be a human being. She took care of him like he was helpless and useless. Which he was. He felt like he was, too.

The two of them already had a routine of sorts. She'd usually bring some food or whatever else he needed, tidy up a bit for him, try to talk hope into him and then feel awkward and leave. That happened around three times a week, more when Moira had a day off or something. It made him feel like she no longer came as a friend but more as a nurse looking after him. He tried to be as nice to her as possible for the sake of their friendship, thanking her all the time for all the things she did for him. Thank you for opening the window, thank you for moving that chair, thank you for turning off the smoke alarm that I couldn't reach when I incidentally burned my dinner because going to the bathroom detained me longer than usual, thank you for rolling me over, thank you for helping me change, thank you, thank you, thank you!

It wasn't easy. But Moira was one of the few people that still visited regularly. The rest of his friends got scared of his temper and how dirty the place and he were becoming. They were either repulsed or feeling sorry for him. Frankly, he preferred it if they were repulsed. So after a few times of him shouting at them viciously they eventually stopped coming. Good. Charles didn’t want them around anyway.

The doorbell rang again and he had to shout louder so that she'd hear him.

"Come in, Moira!" he tried not to sound too annoyed at the fact that she didn't just let herself in as usual. She knew he stopped locking his door so that he won't have to 'go' get the door whenever someone popped by.

He heard the footsteps and looked up at the door frame, expecting the familiar face when instead of Moira he saw…

"You!" Charles spat, anger instantly rising in his chest at the sight of the guy who paralyzed him -- Erik Lehnsherr!

"Hello, Charles." the man greeted a little sheepishly.

"I don't remember us being on first name basis." Charles gritted his teeth.

"Oh... I'm sorry, of course not." Erik said nervously. "Is 'Mr. Xavier' okay?"

"No. Mr. Xavier is not okay. Mr. Xavier can't walk."

Now he was just messing with the guy. But really, the nerve of him to show up here at Charles’ home!

"I meant can I call you Mr. Xavier?" The man mumbled. "But I understand why you’d hate me being around--"

"And yet you're still here!" Charles cut him off. "Why? Why are you here? Why did you come to me when I explicitly told you that I never wanted to see you again?"

"I wanted to make sure you were..." he bit his lip for he was about to say okay again and he already knew that Charles was obviously not okay. "... to see if you didn't need anything." he said instead.

Charles chuckled. There was no merriment in the sound that came out of his mouth. "So a guilty conscious." He shook his head with a bitter laughter. "Of course. I should've known."

Erik was silent. He did not really know what to say. Of course he felt guilty. Of course he hated the thought that he was in that car when it hit that poor man, when it turned his entire life upside down in a second. Seeing this person so broken was heartbreaking. And the thought that Erik might have prevented this if only-- He sighed.

"What?" Charles narrowed his eyes at him. "You expect me to sympathize with you now?"

"No. But I want to help." Erik said determined.

Charles looked at him for a moment that seemed like eternity. "There's nothing you can do." He said with indifference and looked away.

"I know." Erik replied. "But I still want to try."

Here come the rage again. Charles could not control it anymore.

"I have enough problems of my own! I don't need to be your charity cause! So find another place to volunteer so that you can clean your guilty conscience and then forget all about me and how you screwed up my life!"

Erik furrowed his brows for a moment, thinking. Then he nodded and walked out of the room.

"That's better." Charles said go himself, still panting from shouting and the overexcitement.

He was waiting for the sound of Erik leaving. He was craving the sound of Erik walking out of his life forever, closing that front door and never coming back! But he did not hear the expectant shutting of the door. Instead he heard noises from the kitchen. Someone was cooking.

Charles was outraged. It was definitely the sound of Erik cooking in his kitchen! What the hell!?

Charles wheeled himself angrily towards the kitchen, trying not to hit anything and get there with as little things knocked over as possible.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my bloody kitchen!?" he yelled as he clumsily appeared in the door frame.

Erik was wearing Charles' apron -- where did he even find that!? Charles thought he threw it away -- while he was frying something on the stove.

"It's lunch time." Erik replied, not turning around. "You need lunch."

Charles' jaw dropped. "I told you I don't want you here!" he spat.

"I know you don't." Erik said. "But you're hungry."

Charles was sure there was a sly sneer on the man's face although he could not personally see it at this angle.

"I'm not bloody hungry!" He protested at the same moment as his stomach started rumbling, giving him away. "It's none of your business if I'm hungry or not!" he then amended.

"True." Erik turned around to face him, his eyes piercing Charles'. "But it's my business when I'm hungry. I'm hungry now so I'm making lunch."

The nerve of that man! Coming here when he's unwanted and staying for lunch even after he's been kicked out! Charles was so outraged at this impertinence that he was unable to utter a word for longer than a minute.

Erik took advantage of the silence to smirk at Charles. "Go wash your hands or I'll eat it all by myself." He said, infuriating Charles even more.


	3. Chapter 3

Charles arched an eyebrow. "Scrambled eggs? That's your special recipe? That's what I washed my hands for?"

"Try them before you start complaining." Erik said, putting the plate in front of Charles. 

Charles crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm really not impressed, Lehnsherr."

"The point isn't to impress you, the point is to feed you." Was the quick reply. "So eat."

"I'm not comfortable sharing food with the man I despise." 

Erik grabbed his fork and dug in. "Fine. Don't. I'm starting without you then."

"Are you going to act like an ass every time I see you?" Charles snapped.

"Oh." A smile crept on Erik's face. "So you want to see me again?" He grinned.

Charles was dumbstruck for a few long seconds. "No!" He finally remembered to say. "I don't want to see you again! I didn't want to see you now ! You came here and imposed on me like the tall weird freak that you are!"

Erik was silent, thinking. For a moment Charles thought he had succeeded in driving the man away. But then Erik spoke again. 

"I agree. I am imposing." he furrowed his brow. "And frankly... I am quite taller than you."

If Charles was angry before, he was furious now. 

"What does that even have to do with--!? How dare you!?" He exclaimed. "Alright! Do you know why you're taller than me? Because I'm in a bloody wheelchair! And how did I get here again? Who put me in that wheelchair? Oh, right! You did!” 

It was all Erik’s fault! Erik deserved no pity! No pity for Erik Lehnsherr! Charles thought of all those times after the accident when he'd been mean to his friends because he was bitter. How he was getting it out on everyone around him, often even against his own will because he could not help it, he simply couldn’t stop himself. He’d been cruel to them and they did not deserve that. But Erik deserved it. Erik was the reason Charles was in this condition. Charles could get it all out on Erik and not feel any regrets about it. Because Erik was the villain here. He was a bad guy. So this time Charles did not even bother to stop his outburst. And he was well aware of what was about to happen after that outburst. Erik was going to cave like everyone else did. He was going to run from Charles like he was the plague! 

Charles knew the stages: first there was the compassionate look; then the guilt for being able to walk while Charles couldn't; this combined with treating Charles like he was retarded, damaged, helpless, not an equal. It was pity! All of it -- pity! They acted as if his brain was damaged, not his spine. No one understood that he was still the same Charles Xavier, the same person, he was before, only now he could not walk. They all saw the wheelchair instead of the person sitting in it. Had that change him so much? Was it such a huge difference that his own friends would start treating him like a mentally fragile invalid? Screw them if they did! Charles would yell at them and be rude to them just to prove that he was still a person like any other. Just to get a response from them. A response that wasn’t pity. For deep down Charles knew that if he didn't get angry about this whole thing, he would be too heartbroken to take it. 

So screw their stupid pity! Screw them for treating him like he was inferior! He'd rather be alone than treated like that!  

And now, after Charles' outburst, Erik would do what everyone else did too -- Erik would leave. Run as far away from this flat as he could. Charles was anticipating it already. Any moment now. 

Erik looked down at him. "So you're in a wheelchair. I know. And I'm sorry about that." He said in a low husky voice. His gaze was piercing and unyielding, set on Charles intently. "But that's not an excuse to be a pain in the neck."

Charles' jaw dropped. That was the last thing he expected to hear! No one had talked to him in that way since the accident. Everyone had been walking on eggshells around him, 'careful with his feelings' and by doing so hurting his feelings even more. It was all false, a pretence. They’d claim to come ‘hang out’ with him, have fun, but instead would just act around him as if he were terminally ill. Everything they said and did around him was a pretence and Charles always knew who meant what they said and who didn't.

But what was happening now!?

"Eat your food." Erik said firmly and grabbed his fork, digging in again and ignoring the stunned expression on Charles’ face. He just kept eating, unbothered. 

Charles said nothing in reply. After a moment of silent blinking, he took his own fork in hand and started eating the scrambled eggs without any further protests.

~*~  

Erik returned the next day. He was at Charles' door around the same time as before. Once again he brought food and they had lunch together in silence. Charles did not ask him why he came, Erik did not give an explanation. Charles did not need one. He was no fool -- Erik was obviously still feeling guilty about the accident. 

When lunch was over Erik took care of the dishes, prepared some kind of dinner and informed Charles that all he had to do later was to heat it up. Then he left. This soon turned into a daily routine. One that was not arranged or specifically scheduled but still as certain as the sun rising in the east.

Charles hated to admit it but Erik's visits were actually not only helpful but also pleasant. Not only was the food really good, but having Erik around was good too. That was very odd because Erik was the enemy! Charles hated Erik! And yet they kept having lunches together. It was all very confusing to Charles. So instead of overthinking it he decided to give up and enjoy the new bond that was forming between him and Lehnsherr. In fact, he came to realize that he was actually excited about the time when Erik would come to his home, make him lunch, eat with him and leave. He was expecting it with great anticipation and would be genuinely disappointed if Erik skipped a visit. 

They started to exchange more words eventually which definitely improved the conversation. Erik’s visits got a bit longer each time until one day Charles realized that they had spent the whole afternoon together, talking about meaningless nothings. And the weirdest part of all was that Charles enjoyed it and thought time went too fast! 

At some point, Charles started to get annoyed if his visitor wasn’t Erik. Erik treated him differently than the rest of his old friends who all suddenly changed towards him. But Erik treated him like trash. He wasn’t afraid to yell back at Charles when Charles was being a dick. He didn’t baby Charles or talk to him as if he were retarded. It was refreshing and invigorating and Charles liked it. He liked that Erik would tease him at times, or even call him a pain in the neck as if they knew each other very well, as if they were old friends. He liked that Erik would hang out with him like he was no different than any other guy. He liked that Erik would argue with him when they had differences in their opinions without 'being careful about his feelings'. He liked it that Erik treated him like saw the person, instead of the wheelchair. When Erik was around Charles almost forgot he was in a wheelchair. Yes, he definitely needed to spend more time with Erik. Unlike everyone else, Erik was actually stimulating him. Erik was a challenge. They would engage in verbal duels, tease one another, exchanging opinions and talk about nearly everything. Over these last few weeks they formed a strange sort of friendship. And it all happened so spontaneously Charles never even saw it coming. 

Meanwhile Moira had found a good new clinic for Charles that provided both physical therapy and psychological help for those who had experienced a trauma like his. Charles was reluctant to go but eventually Moira managed to convince -- no, scratch that -- Moira managed to force him to try it.  

There he met Dr. Hank McCoy who was going to be his main doctor. He also met a few other patients of the clinic as well. The therapy itself was a bit of a strain and Charles really wanted to quit after the first few times but then he felt some small improvement in his legs and muscles. Some sensation from the waist below that was very helpful in the necessities of everyday life. Hank congratulated him on the progress, small that it was, and said that it was really promising. That brought hope back in Charles’ heart. Hope he thought he had already lost completely. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to walk again!

~*~  

“You’re losing, Xavier. Obviously you did not eat your vegetables today!” Erik smirked.

“That has nothing to do with my vegetables.” Charles groaned. He was tucked in in his wheelchair with a warm blanket to keep him from getting a cold, a cup of tea next to the chessboard and the few pieces he had won from Erik. “I’m just bored of this game.” 

“You just suck at it.” Erik smirked, looking so damn amused Charles wanted to punch his smug face.

“Shut up.” Was his reply.

“Of course. You need your absolute silence in order to concentrate. Otherwise you can’t think. It’s a difficult game, not  _ anyone  _ could play it.” Erik winked.

Charles narrowed his eyes at him. “Strong words. Be careful or you’ll unleash a terrible force.” he said as he attacked Erik’s knight with his rook. However, in doing so he accidentally left his queen unprotected. 

Erik arched an eyebrow. “More terrible than your game tonight?” 

Charles looked up at him, challenging him with his eyes. “Fine. Your move then. Let’s see what you can do.”

“I’ll take advantage of your glaringly obvious mistake, of course.” Erik stretched his arm, his turtleneck sleeve riding up a bit as he moved a chess piece with his long fingers.

Charles frowned. “What’s with your wrist?” he asked.

Erik’s wrist was bandaged and Charles had only now noticed that.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing.” Erik shrugged, relaxing back into his seat. “I hurt my arm a little, that’s all. It’s nothing serious. I can still beat you at this.”

“Aww, did you hurt yourself while trying to force some poor naive girl to dance with you?” Charles teased.

Erik’s face remained serious. “I’m gay, Charles.” He replied. “And besides, I can’t dance.”

Charles’ jaw dropped. “What!? Are you serious!?”

Erik looked visibly uncomfortable at Charles’ remark. “Umm, yes. Yes, I am.” He said awkwardly. “I came out and everything. I’ve been gay for as long as I can--”

“Screw coming out! You really can’t dance!?” 

Charles seemed infinitely amused at this. He was beaming at him joyfully. 

Erik’s lips twisted in a small smile. “Yes, really. I can’t dance.” he confirmed, the soft smile not disappearing from his face.  

“I never would have guessed!” Charles shook his head, eyes sparkling with the remains of his amusement. “You look like the type that would make a good dancer.”

“Oh, and you can tell?” Erik asked with a smirk. 

“I can tell.” Charles nodded cockily.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah!” He leaned in closer. “I may be in a wheelchair, my friend, but I had my fair share of swaying on the dance floor.”

Erik chuckled again. “Good to know.”

They were silent for a moment. 

“I’ll teach you.” Charles suddenly said with conviction. 

Erik looked up at him. “Pardon?”

“I’ll teach you.” Charles repeated. “I’ll teach you how to dance.”

“Um, you?”

“Yes. Why not? True, I can’t walk, I won’t be showing you the steps personally, but I’m still quite positive I can manage to teach you just by talking. I'm really good with my mouth.”

Erik looked at him with surprise. He could not help but admire the person Charles was becoming around him. The change was truly impressive. Those moments when it was just the two of them and Charles forgot about his ‘impediment’ or his depression and was just himself again. Sure, Erik never knew Charles before the accident but he often imagined what he was like without the depression, the irritability and the dark moods. 

He smiled fondly. “Okay.” he said. “Teach me.” 

Charles almost beamed at him. “Good! Get up!” He waved his hands about excitedly to gesture to Erik to stand up. 

Erik did.

“Clear out the furniture a bit, if you don’t mind. We’ll need the space.”

Erik did that too.

“Now get to the middle of the room.”

Erik was there in no time and Charles followed in his wheelchair, the two positioned one against the other. Charles seemed in full teacher-mode now. 

“We’ll start with the basics, okay?” he said.

Erik nodded.

“Why do you want to dance?” Charles asked. 

“I don’t want to dance.” 

“Erik!”

“Right. Sorry. I want to dance because I like seeing my partner’s eyes sparkling when we do that.”

Charles smiled involuntarily. “That’s nice.” He uttered softly, then quickly cleared his throat. “So a partner! We have to start with something romantic then. What could be more romantic than a waltz?”

“I’ve no idea.” Erik blurted out with a shrug. “I am bad at dancing but I’m even worse at romance.”

“Boy! Aren’t you a catch!” Charles rolled his eyes, amused. “Just follow my lead-- I mean my voice. I’ll instruct you.”

The lesson turned out to be much more fun and productive than expected. Although Charles claimed he never once doubted his success. It was unique and unusual but not at all a failure. In fact, Charles managed to get Erik to make a few pretty decent moves. He seemed really proud of himself. They only stopped because they realized it was getting later than usual.

Erik seemed troubled. 

“It’s time for dinner.” He said with concern. “I’m here anyway, I’ll heat it up this time.” 

He turned around, heading to the kitchen but Charles stopped him.

“No, Erik, wait.” he said. “Why don’t we go out maybe? There’s a nice place close by that I’ve heard about but never really tried...”

“You want us to eat at a restaurant?” Erik raised an eyebrow. That was an unexpected suggestion. Even more so considering the fact that Charles never left his flat out of his own will. This was a first. 

“I’m just opting for something other than your horrible cooking.” He joked.

That was a lie. Erik knew for a fact that no matter what he said Charles had nothing against Erik’s food. He rather enjoyed it, in fact. 

Nevertheless, Erik fake-pouted and let out a sigh of exasperation. “Fine! I’ll drive us to the restaurant.”

A sudden panic raised in Charles' chest. "No!" he said hastily. He suddenly looked very vulnerable, uncertain and small in his wheelchair, curled in his blanket. "Um, it’s not too far from here. We can walk. We’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

Erik thought for a moment and he had to agree that this was the better option. “Alright. You lead the way.” 

The anxiety was gone from Charles’ face and he smiled again. 

~*~ 

“You were right. This is a nice place.” Erik agreed when they were already in the restaurant, their food served and steamy in front of them. “It’s like we’re in a scene from _ 'Lady and the Tramp' _ .”

“I’m going to let that one slide because I’m not willing to be either Lady, or the Tramp.” Charles announced, digging in his plate with his fork. 

Erik grinned. “The food is good though.” He said, watching Charles eat. There was this faraway look on his face, coupled with a fond smile. It was a little unnerving. “And I’m glad to see you’re getting your good mood back.”

Charles said nothing but he returned Erik’s smile. 

“How’s therapy going?” Erik then asked. 

He was probably just making conversation but Charles’ hand wavered a little, nevertheless. He chewed slowly, buying himself more time before his reply. They’ve spent almost the entire day together and yet  they managed to find a way to avoid that question. Charles didn’t like discussing medical things with people who weren’t his doctors. And for some reason he hated discussing medical things  _ with Erik  _ even more. It was silly, really. Erik knew about Charles’ condition,  _ obviously _ . It was stupid to want to hide the gory details of it from the man. He probably already knew most of them anyway, and besides, it didn’t matter anyway. Charles still would rather not share. Maybe because around Erik he never felt like an invalid. Discussing physical therapy with him now would partly ruin this illusion. 

Erik was waiting for a reply, his head tilted slightly to the side, the expression expression on his face open and genuine. 

“It’s going well.” Charles finally said, nodding a little. “Hank says I’m making progress.” He didn’t feel that progress though. “He says, I’m doing quite well considering my condition.” It still sucked balls and hurt like a mother every so often. “I’m much better than when we first started.” he bit his lower lip.  

Erik’s face brightened up. “That’s wonderful, Charles!” he exclaimed and it sounded so sincere that Charles felt something in him tremble at the sight.

He forced a smile. “It is, yes.” 

“Does that mean that soon you could walk again?” Erik asked.

Charles' smile froze on his face. So that was it. The sooner Charles could walk again, the sooner Erik could leave guilt-free. Ha! Of course, that was it! He should’ve known! 

Charles cleaned his mouth with a napkin, his lips pursed, his movements nervous and stiff. “I should be. But not really that soon probably.” 

“I believe you can do this, Charles! I really believe that! One day you’ll get there!” Erik said with the same enthusiasm. 

_ Like a cheerleader _ , Charles thought. Suddenly this evening did not feel so nice and cozy anymore. Expectations! Expectations everywhere! People waiting for him to get better, to start walking, to not be upset about his legs anymore, to move on, to be cheerful. It was too much, the pressure was too much and he couldn’t stand it anymore. What he wanted most of all was to be left alone. He felt so alone anyway. Why were everyone up his business? He needed to be in his flat, alone, in the dark, where he could sulk and suffer in peace without upsetting anyone else. 

Were Erik and Moira wrong to hope though? Over the last few weeks Charles allowed himself to hope too, a little bit. Hank’s words were comforting and positive about his recovery, he told him he was making a remarkable progress. Maybe they had a point? Maybe he could actually recover completely, or almost completely. He could then finally tell Raven about it too. If he could walk again, wouldn’t that be wonderful? If he could walk again, he could be himself again, not this ruined mess of a person. If he could walk again, maybe he could take Erik out to dinner and not discuss physical therapy. 

~*~ 

The phone rang. It was Dr. McCoy. Charles grinned as he picked it up. He had been expecting this phone call. 

“I’m ready to hear the news, Hank!” He said almost letting his excitement show in his voice. His heart was beating so hard he felt he could burst with its force. With considerable effort Charles did his best to calm down in order to hear what Hank had to say to him. 

“Your test results just arrived, Charles.” Hank said from the other end of the line.

“Yes, yes! And...?” Charles nodded impatiently. 

A short silence followed and then Hank spoke again, his voice was heavy with compassion. “I’m sorry, Charles. Not yet.” 

And just like that his world was shattered again. 

Charles’ hand almost dropped the phone. His throat was dry. His heart sunk. 

He realized he was standing silent like that for too long so he tried to speak. “Oh. When then?” he managed to say. 

“Not any time soon, I’m afraid.” Hank replied earnestly. “In fact, your chances of walking again are really small.”

“B-but I made progress...” Charles heard himself utter helplessly. 

“You did and you will in future! It’s a good sign that you’re making this progress, Charles, it really is. You’re regaining some feeling in your legs and that’s wonderful.” Hank assured him. “But... it’s just not enough for you to be able to walk again.” 

Charles swallowed around the lump in his throat. Hank was probably waiting for a response but Charles had nothing to say. 

“I thought it was enough.” Hank continued when it was clear that Charles wasn’t going to talk. “I mean, in some cases this sort of progress leads to successful surgery. That is why I asked for the tests. It was a chance and we had to take it. But we’re not there yet. I’m sorry, Charles. You’re not one of these cases.”

“S-so...” Charles had to clear his throat before continuing. “So my chances are really small but... existant?”

Hank hesitated. “In a way.” 

Charles felt the already familiar anger rising in his chest. 

“Be blunt, Hank.” Charles barked firmly. “What are my chances to ever walk again?”

“About 8%.”

He deflated. 

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s fine.”

He didn’t sound convincing. 

“We can talk about it in therapy next week, if you like.” Hank offered. 

“It’s fine.” Charles repeated. 

Hank hesitated again but then gave up. “Alright, Charles. See you later.”

“Yes. Later. Bye.”


	4. Chapter 4

After the slap in the face that were the test results, Charles wasn’t sure he saw any point in continuing his physical therapy. He didn’t share his disappointment with anyone -- not with Erik, not with Moira and definitely not with Raven who didn’t even know about Charles’ condition yet. It was his own misfortune and he was  _ fine _ . Only Hank knew how close he had been to believing he could regain his ability to walk again, and only Hank was aware of how broken Charles was after the reality check that were his test results. It wasn’t going to happen any time soon. If ever. So why bother?  

Charles didn’t discuss it in therapy. He even missed a few sessions. Which finally led to Hank visiting him in person, in his flat. 

“You didn’t need to come all the way here, Hank. I’m fine.” Charles insisted. 

“Are you throwing me out?” Hank said, only half-teasing. 

Charles rolled his eyes. “Hardly. It’s just--” He waved his hand, not sure what he was trying to convey with the gesture. It was weird to have Hank in his flat? He felt guilty for ditching the man and not showing for sessions for the last week? He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to tell him? All of the above? “You’re not unwelcome here, Hank.” he finally settled on. 

Hank chuckled as if Charles had somehow projected all his other thoughts to him too. “Well, that’s good to know. Since you wouldn’t come to therapy this last week, for no apparent reason, therapy came to you.” 

Charles bit his lip. “I’m sorry about that.” he said. “But I’m not going to discuss the test results, Hank.” 

“I don’t want you to.” Hank replied simply. The ease with which he had announced that took Charles by surprise. 

He frowned a little puzzled. “I don’t understand. Why are you here then, if not to nag me about therapy?” 

“Oh, I’m here to nag you about therapy.” Hank continued in the same manner -- both pleasant and insistant. 

Charles furrowed his brows even more. “I told you I don’t want to--” 

“ _ Physical _ therapy, Charles.” Hank clarified. 

“Oh.” 

“You’ve been missing sessions and that’s not good.”

Charles bit his lips against, his hands fidgeting, nervously clutching at the armrests of his wheelchair.

“Look, Charles, I understand if you’d rather deal with your emotional issues--” 

“I don’t have emotional issues!” Charles insisted fiercely. 

“-- your emotional issues,” Hank continued, unbothered, “alone. However, when it comes to physical therapy I must be firm.” 

Hank, usually soft-spoken and gentle, now resembled a vicious beast with his determination. It was a strange new side of him. It made Charles feel like he owed the man an explanation. Perhaps he truly did. 

He sighed. 

“What’s the point, Hank?” he said with resignation. “I’m not going to use my legs anyway. What’s the point of physical therapy?” 

Hank hunched over a little so that they were at eye level and took Charles’ hand to show his support. “It’s not just about you walking again, Charles. That’s not why we have physical therapy. Not always. It’s about taking care of your body.” 

“Pfft. My body.” Charles sneered. “It’s good for nothing now.” 

“That’s not true. You can still have a life. It’s not just a matter of walking again. Don’t put your life on hold waiting for something that might--” he cut himself off. 

Charles’ eyes were on him now, challenging and fierce. “Yes? Finish your sentence, Hank. Waiting for what?” 

Hank deflated slightly. 

“Waiting for something that might never happen?” Charles finished the sentence for him. 

Hank let out a deep breath. “There are small chances. Not enough to make us hope you will be walking soon. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You’re still alive, Charles. You didn’t die in that accident and that is good! Instead of wallowing in self-pity and bitterness you should be glad you survived! And you now need to take care of your body’s new needs. Physical therapy is one of those needs. Your muscles need to be loosened regularly, you need the exercise. Stopping now would set you behind on all that progress that you already made. We don’t want you stiff and sore all over.” 

Charles made a face at the words stiff and sore. 

“If you don’t want to come to our center for your physical therapy, I’d understand. You can go someplace else.” 

“I don’t want to go someplace else.” Charles almost pouted. Hank was by far his favorite doctor of all the doctor’s he’s had since the accident. He didn’t want another place, he wanted to not need physical therapy at all. He wanted to be healthy again. He wanted to be himself again. To be a normal person and enjoy normal person’s things. He didn’t want to need any special treatment or care because of his condition. But he couldn’t put all those emotions into words. So instead he repeated the only thing he could say. “I don’t want another doctor.” 

“It’s your choice and I’ll respect it.” Hank reassured. “But don’t neglect your health.”

Charles gave it some thought. Hank had a point, of course. Charles had been feeling quite sore and tense these last day and he’d only skipped his sessions for a week. How much worse could it get if he stopped his physical therapy altogether? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. Maybe he had to suck it up and try again. To man up and attend his physical therapy sessions, even if they brought up all kinds of unpleasant emotions in him. He had to just learn to deal with it. 

“Alright. I promise I won’t skip any more sessions.” he said, honestly. “And I’m sorry I made you worry about me, Hank.” 

“It’s perfectly fine, Charles.” Hank smiled pleasantly at him. 

They set a date for Charles’ next session and soon Hank left. Charles remained in the dim room, staring out the window at the world outside. A world he had no part of. 

~*~  

“So I was talking to Moira the other day,” Erik said in the middle of their chess game that evening and Charles almost choked. 

“You talk to Moira?” his eyebrows arched up. 

“Yes.” 

“Regularly?” 

“Why is it so surprising?” Erik looked amused at Charles’ reaction. 

Charles shrugged. “No reason. Just, I didn’t know you and Moira were friends, that’s all.” 

“Moira is a lovely person. And we have a few things in common.” 

Charles hated to think that  _ he  _ was one of the things they had in common. Did they talk about Charles often? Were they discussing his condition? He wanted to know desperately but thought better than asking about it. Instead he tried to play it casual. 

“So you were talking to Moira the other day and...?” 

“She mentioned something that made me think.” 

“Wow. A miracle.” 

Erik’s face remained unusually serious, considering that Charles had just teased him. Why did he ignore it? Erik never ignored an opportunity to tease Charles back. This was very odd. 

“Charles, can I ask you something?” Erik finally said. 

Charles furrowed his brows a little, assuming a serious face as well. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Erik’s eyes were on him, blue-green, open and concerned. “Moira says you have a sister?” 

He appeared to be waiting for confirmation so Charles nodded. “I do, yes.” 

“Hmm.” Erik hummed, to all intents and purposes still too lost in his own head. “But she doesn’t seem to be around. Why is that?” 

Well, that was a question Charles didn’t expect. Typical Moira! Sending Erik to do her work. Charles kept avoiding the issue of Raven whenever Moira tried bringing it up so now she was going at it through Erik.  

“Why do you ask, Erik?” He let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I was just curious.” 

Charles laughed. It didn’t sound well. “Just curious? Come on, don’t pull my leg. Did Moira tell you to ask me that?” 

“No.” Erik replied, looking a bit sheepish and uncertain. “She even assumed I knew about it. But I didn’t. You never mentioned a sister.” 

“Am I supposed to mention everything to you now? Fine. I used to wet the bed till I was 7. The first time I came I cried so hard the butler came to check up on me. It used to be a turn on to be called  _ professor _ . When I was in high school I used to skip Gym and hide in the library to read about Genetics instead. I lost most of my friends after the accident because I keep pushing them all away. And ironically I still wet the bed occasionally because peeing is too fucking difficult! Happy now? Is that enough mentionings for one day? Are you satisfied?” 

Erik huffed. “That’s not what I meant, Charles.”

And Charles knew Erik didn’t mean that but he couldn’t stop his mouth now. Things were blurting out of it like daggers, sarcastic and hurtful. Their only purpose: to disguise his own pain. He was a helpless spectator to his own vile remarks, unable to make himself shut up as if someone else was speaking instead of him. As if those weren’t his words. They were just words he had to say without knowing why. 

_ There you go, Charles _ , he thought to himself distantly as he kept listening to his own rudeness,  _ you achieved your goal -- you drove Erik away. He won’t be visiting you after that!  _

The thought was more painful than he expected. 

During all that tirade Erik looked stoic as always, right until he had enough of it. 

“I only asked because I thought I was your friend, okay!?” he blurted out. 

Charles quieted down. His face slowly relaxed into something less contorted and he looked up at Erik with big round eyes, full of confusion and surprise. 

Erik ran his fingers through his hair, seemingly regretting his own outburst. “I-- I thought you considered me your friend so you’d share stuff like that with me. But I guess I was wrong.”

Charles realized he was shaking his head. 

Erik sucked in a deep breath. “It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. I was stupid to even think that--” he bit his lip, cutting himself off. “Anyway. I should probably go.” 

He got up from his usual armchair and headed towards the door, avoiding Charles’ gaze when Charles suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. Erik flinched. In his haste Charles had forgotten that this was the bandaged wrist. 

“I’m sorry!” he gasped, terrified. Now he had hurt Erik both physically and emotionally. He was a terrible man indeed! 

He let go of Erik’s wrist, biting at his lower lip and doing his best not to burst into tears of regret. 

“It’s nothing. I’m okay.” Erik said quickly. Even now he was trying to reassure Charles. 

“Please don’t go.” Charles whispered quietly. He didn’t feel like he deserved Erik’s company. Not after his stupid outburst from a moment ago. He had been mean to Erik before but it never got so out of hand. And Erik usually always fought back. Not this time though. This time Erik seemed vulnerable and hurt, and Charles realized that was the last thing he wanted to do. His days of wanting to be mean to Erik were over long ago. 

Not even realizing what he was doing, Charles reached out for Erik’s hand again and pressed it to his cheek, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. “Don’t go…” 

It only took a moment and Erik was down on his knees. “I won’t go, Charles. I’m here. You’re not alone. I’m here.” he reassured, pulling Charles into a tight hug. 

Maybe it was a result of not being physically reassured like that in a really long time, but that was the final straw and Charles turned on the waterworks. He snuggled as close to Erik as his wheelchair would allow. It felt good to be held like that, to feel the warmth of another human being. Slowly he began to feel the pressure and hurt accumulated over the last months leaving his body and mind. And then he felt much better. 

A few minutes later they had both calmed down, ready to continue their game of chess. Charles was even smiling. 

“And for the record, I do consider you my friend.” The  _ only  _ friend other than Moira who still stood by his side, the  _ only  _ friend whose company Charles still enjoyed. He didn’t say that out loud, of course. He didn’t want to make this situation more sappy than it already was. 

“Thank you.” Erik smiled back at him. 

“I do have a sister.” Charles said. 

“You don’t have to--” 

“I want to. You’re right. As a friend you’re entitled to know. So if you’re still curious, here goes.” Erik did not interrupt him. Charles proceeded. “I have a sister. Her name’s Raven. She’s two years younger than me. I love her dearly. Always have. She’s out of town currently. We--” he wavered a little. “We don’t talk much. It’s not news, we haven’t talked much since before the accident. We had this argument. She wanted to go follow her dreams in L.A., I wasn’t too keen on letting her leave, she said I was too controlling and overprotective and won’t let her live her life, I said she couldn’t handle life on her own… It wasn’t our worst fight per se but it wasn’t pretty. She left a week later and I was too proud to call her. I guess so was she because she never tried to contact me either. When I got paralyzed it just felt wrong to include her in this.”  

“So you never told her.” Erik said, his voice low, understanding downing at him. 

Charles shook his head. “No. I never told her.” 

“Charles…” 

“It’s not something I’m proud of, either, but surely it’s not  _ that  _ bad.” he said defensively. 

Erik arched an eyebrow in a way that was entirely Erik. “You didn’t tell your own sister about your accident and the coma, and that you survived by a miracle  _ and  _ that you are now in a wheelchair?” 

Charles shook his head with a chuckle, doing his best to keep the bitterness away from his voice and face. “Okay, it sounds really bad when you put it like that.” 

“Charles. She deserves to know.” 

Charles’ smile faded. How can he even begin to explain this? He knew his sister well, he knew the way her mind worked. If he told her Raven would definitely feel terrible about this. She would feel guilty for not being by Charles’ side when the accident occurred. She might even start blaming herself. He didn’t want that. Then, she could also decide to leave her life in L.A. in order to be closer to Charles and help out. She deserved to live her life, not be chained here by his side. 

He couldn’t explain all that to Erik. All he could say was, “No. She deserves to be clueless about it. In some cases, ignorance really is a bliss.” 


	5. Chapter 5

His phone rang. Moira.

“Hello, Moira, I’m almost ready—“ 

“Charles, I’m so sorry!” she quickly cut him off. “I’m really very busy today, something came up at work and I won’t be able to drive you to therapy this afternoon.” she sounded guilty. 

“Oh. Well, that’s alright. I’ll just reschedule.” 

“No, no, don’t do that because of me! I’ve taken care of it. Someone else is taking you.”

Charles frowned. “Who?”

“Erik Lehnsherr...” she said, pausing as if waiting for his rage to pour over her. 

When nothing followed Moira felt obligated to start apologizing again.

“I’m so sorry about this, Charles. I know he’s the last person you’d want but no one else would do it. And Erik offered it himself when I told him about my work trip.”

“Wait, your work trip?” She never mentioned anything about a work trip. 

“Yes.” she sounded guilty again. “I’m going to South Korea for a week. There’s this seminar.” 

“That’s wonderful, Moira!” 

“Yes… but I won’t be able to drive you to the clinic because of that. But Erik said it was no trouble for him. In fact, I’ve spoken to him quite a few times since the accident and he’s not a bad guy, really. He’s rather nice.” She sounded nervous now, as if she was unsure if Charles would approve of her newly formed friendship with the man who hit Charles with his car. So Erik hadn’t told her he visited Charles regularly. Maybe him and Moira really did have other things to discuss, things other than Charles and his stupid wheelchair. 

He realized Moira was still talking. 

“-- so we had coffee a few times and he told me about his work and I told him about mine and then I said the only thing that worried me was your therapy and he offered to do it. For the whole week. I think he even rescheduled some of his own meetings to be available for your therapy sessions. He’s on his way as we speak. You won’t even be late today. He should be there any minute. Please, don’t be angry with me, Charles!”

Charles sighed. “I’m not angry, Moira. Erik it is then. I don’t mind.” 

“Really!?” She sounded incredibly surprised. 

“Yes. Honestly.” 

“Um… okay?” 

“You go and nail that  South Korea seminar.” 

“Thank you, Charles! You sure you’re gonna be alright?”

“Mhm. Couldn’t be better.” Really, couldn’t be better! That’s the best he can ever get! “Good luck with work and don’t worry about it.” He reassured her. 

“Alright!” He could hear her relief over the phone. Good. 

Erik was prompt as usual, his custom smirk on his face when Charles looked up at him from the height of his wheelchair.

“Ready for a ride?” Erik grinned.

Charles rolled his eyes and decided that he hated his life.

“The doorman will take me downstairs and prepare everything so that I can be ready for a ride.” He replied.

“Okay.” Erik nodded “I can be patient.”

~*~ 

Charles felt ridiculous when he had to be carried down and placed in the car like a toddler by the doorman and the younger guy that was helping him today. It was even more humiliating to have Erik witness this rather sensitive process. 

Erik, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by it. He carefully observed and even offered to help but both Charles and the doorman declined it hurriedly. The doorman because he expected the generous tip Charles usually gave him after a procedure like that; and Charles because he thought it’d be too humiliating to handle.

Once they were ready to go and Erik got in the driving seat Charles froze. Erik noticed his pale face and looked at him with concern. 

“Is something wrong, Charles?” 

Charles swallowed with difficulty. “Is this the car you hit me with?” he asked, his voice shaking a little.

“Oh!” Erik realized the problem. “No. It’s not the same car.” He replied quick to reassure the man.

Charles sighed. “Erik, I know you hit me with your car, you don’t have to lie just to make it easier for me.”

“I’m not lying to you, Charles. It really isn’t the same car.” He insisted. “The car that hit you...” it was difficult to say the words, especially when Charles was looking at him the way he did “... the car that hit you was the car I use for work.”

“You have  _ two  _ cars?” Charles arched an eyebrow. Erik did not seem like the type of guy that would get two cars for himself. Deep inside Charles had always thought Erik was kind of cheap.

“The other one is not mine.” Erik explained. “I’m a driving instructor. The car that hit you was the one I use for my students.”

Charles laughed and for a moment Erik was really confused. But then he noticed that this time the laughter was not underlined with bitterness as usual. He had to admit that was an improvement!

“So you’re a driving instructor?” Charles sounded quite amused. “Do you see the irony here? I got hit by a driving instructor!”

“You were hit by a driving instructor’s car.” Erik added quietly but Charles was too busy laughing to  pay attention so Erik closed his mouth again.

“That is ironic!” Charles sighed when he managed to stop and get his breath back. “Did you get fired for that? Do they still trust you to teach other people how to drive?”

“I’m glad you find this so amusing, Charles.” Erik said somewhat dryly and started the engine.

“But seriously, what did they say?” Charles kept insisting. “Your boss must’ve said something. Did your boss just let you get away with it because I didn’t press charges?”

“I did not get fired.” Was all Erik said.

“Ooh! You must have a charming and irresistible personality!” Charles said sarcastically but still amused. They both knew Erik’s personality was one that could hardly be described as ‘charming’ or ‘irresistible’.

“Are you finished?” Erik rolled his eyes.

“I’m only just starting!” Charles grinned, readjusting himself in his seat as far as he could. He looked like a mischievous cat about to capture its prey. “Did that ruin your reputation?” he asked with flickering eyes. "Huh? Did I ruin your reputation, Erik?"

“No. My reputation is intact.” Erik replied, a smile creeping on his lips. 

For a moment there Erik was able to catch a glimpse of what Charles was like before the accident broke him so much emotionally. He saw a vibrant, cheerful man with sparkling blue eyes and a big smile. He saw an opened and curious mind. He saw a kind heart and good sense of humor. He got to a glimpse of all those things that were Charles before the depression. And Erik loved what he was seeing.

“This is remarkable!” Charles went on teasing him, eyes fixed on Erik. “Are you that good of an instructor that they just turned a blind eye? Is it like one of those things where if you can’t do it, you teach others? Get it? Because you can’t drive but you teach others.”

“Yes, I got the subtle joke, Charles.” 

Charles giggled, he  _ actually  _ giggled, and Erik felt his efforts to restore Charles emotionally were not entirely fruitless. His friend was definitely improving with each of their meetings. 

The rest of the car ride was really pleasant and even fun for both men and neither of them noticed when they arrived at their destination. 

~*~ 

Hank welcomed Charles with his usual optimistic smile, combined with a certain dose of compassion.

“How are we feeling today, Charles?” he asked and the notes of his voice painfully reminded Charles of his condition -- he was damaged now. What was he thinking a moment ago in that car, trying to enjoy life like a normal person? 

“Better?” he replied uncertain, mostly because he knew that was the answer Hank was expecting.

The session began. The usual physical exercises combined with conversation that was supposed to follow his mental as well as his physical health. He felt even worse after that. Exhausted both physically and emotionally. The massage was good, it loosened his muscles and helped him relax. But that was one good thing about the whole stupid visit. The rest just reminded him of how much of an invalid he was now, what he had lost and what he might never have again. 

When the blasted thing was over he got out into the corridor where he found Erik waiting for him. It’s been two hours. Did Erik wait for him here all this time? Yes, Charles was definitely a dick and a pain in the ass!

“You ready?” Erik asked, springing up from the sofa and approaching Charles.

Charles nodded, his lips pursed into a tight line. 

Erik felt the difference in his mood almost instantly. “Is everything alright?” 

He just  _ had  _ to ask  _ that _ . 

Charles suppressed a groan. “Yes, fine. Let’s just go.” 

He was trying hard to repress all his feelings of desperation that had returned the moment he was reminded of his condition.

They waited for the elevator.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You seem... different.”

“I’m fine, Erik.” Charles all but snapped, sounding really annoyed. He regretted it the moment the words were out. 

The elevator dinged to announce that it was ready for its passengers. Charles and Erik got in. 

Erik looked worried. “Wasn’t therapy good for you?” 

Good for him!? Did Erik seriously just asked him that!? Good for him!? As in how it felt? Did it feel good for him to be humiliated and tortured by the fact that he was incapable of doing the simplest of things for himself? Or that Hank and everyone else were looking at him as if he was a broken egg that they had to somehow put together but failing? Good for him!? 

“Charl--” 

“It’s stupid and boring!” Charles cut him off impatiently. He had no energy to deal with this. “And it annoys me! It annoys me a lot! I don’t even know if I should go on with it.” He barked just so he wouldn’t start crying again. 

“I expect it to be a bit annoying but surely it’s good for you. You said yourself that you were making progress and it helped you and--” 

“Fuck off, Erik. What do you know about it?”  

“You’re not even trying, Charles!” Erik gaped astonished by Charles’ words. “You have a chance to get better but all you do is frown and complain!”

They were outside the building now, all they had to do was descend the stairs and go to the parking lot.

“This is not supposed to be fun, Erik.” Charles spat, the traces of the bitterness Erik knew so well by now were back in his voice and eyes again. “It’s therapy! It sucks! And it probably won’t even work anyway. It’s all useless...”

The last words were uttered quietly, under his breath. At that moment Erik knew Charles was expressing his most personal fears and sorrow now. It was normal that he would feel that way. But Erik could not just let him sink in despair! Not after all the efforts he poured into getting him out of that place. He had to say something to make things better for Charles, to give him hope, but he had no idea what so Charles beat him to it by speaking first.

“Look, I understand that you’re not a bad man, Erik.” He said, struggling with his wheelchair. “There’s good in you, I see it now. You’re definitely not the asshole I thought you were. You’ve proved yourself!” he sighed. “So you’re fine now. Apology accepted. I’m not mad at you anymore. So you really don’t have to continue with this anymore.” Erik was listening carefully, observing Charles’ pained expression as he was trying to get his chair on the ramp and ‘slide’ down the stairs to get to the parking lot and then the car. “So just—just—“ he bit his lip with the effort. It was a struggle indeed. 

“Here, let me help.” Erik said instantly and before Charles knew it Erik was carrying him down the stairs in his arms.

“Ummm.” Charles stuttered, unsure of what he was about to say. Erik had lifted him up so quickly and so effortlessly, as if he were a feather. 

It was unexpected and took Charles by surprise completely. He looked up at Erik’s face. The man seemed to be concentrating on not missing a step as he was carrying Charles. That was good thinking on his part, Charles noted in his head, because it would not be pretty horrible if they both fell down the stairs.

They reached the last step but Charles was still in Erik’s arms, a little confused as to why was the man still carrying him. Was he planning on carrying him all the way to the parking lot? Then it hit him, of course -- the wheelchair was still upstairs. That was why Erik couldn’t just drop him down. So obvious! Why was Charles’ brain suddenly working so slow?

Erik carried Charles to his car and placed him in the front seat with extra care. Charles only observed. He could not bring himself to say anything. 

“I’ll go get the chair.” Erik said to him and shut the car door closed.

Charles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His eyes followed Erik as he rushed up the stairs again, got Charles’ wheelchair and returned to the car hurriedly, then placed the chair in the trunk and oh, dear, he was getting back to the car! Charles looked away at some unidentified spot somewhere in front of him, and tried to get his breathing to calm down. He cursed himself because he could see in the rear mirror that his cheeks were flushed. It was so visible that maybe Erik had noticed it too. Oh, how embarrassing! 

During the car ride, Charles tried to convince himself that his reaction was simply caused by the embarrassment of being carried and nothing else.

“Is therapy working well for you?” Erik asked, interrupting Charles’ thoughts. He was apparently trying to revive their previous argument. But Charles wasn’t in a mood for fighting anymore. He was long past that. 

He shrugged. “It’s not like they can magically make everything better.”  

“Well, no.” Erik agreed. “But you're improving. And it's emotional support, too. That’s more important than you give it credit.”

Charles’ bitter laughter was back. “Isn’t it sad that I have to pay people to get emotional support these days? I drove everyone else away. Even Moira.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t pout now. You have me.” Erik said and it sounded so natural that for a moment Charles did not even think to question it. “And Moira's just busy, that’s all. That’s why she called me. You still have Moira too.” 

Charles said nothing. What was the point, anyway?

~*~

That night Charles had the weirdest and most unexpected dream ever! He was in Erik’s arms, they were kissing. Then Erik took him to his bedroom, carrying him in his arms much like he did earlier that day. He placed him on his bed and they made passionate love together. The vivid details of the dream were unlike any other Charles had in a long time. The things Erik did to him and the sensations that Charles could  _ still feel _ … It was so hot! Charles loved it! 

The next morning Charles woke up flushed and confused. This was the first time since the accident that he had such a dream. And it had to be about Erik! 

He decided not to think about it and decided to concentrate on his papers instead. The distraction was good. Hardly enough to keep his mind completely off the dream, but still good. 

~*~

Erik visited again. Too soon after Charles’ embarrassing fantasy. 

He didn’t talk much this time, instead he went straight to the kitchen, cooking. Half an hour later they were at the table, eating. The conversation was still kind of dead though. Other than an occasional ‘pass the salt, please’ there wasn’t really much either of them uttered. Erik seemed a little irritated, like his mind was miles away. Under any circumstances Charles would have asked him what was wrong. But today… today he just couldn’t.

“You know, a shower would be refreshing for you.” Erik suddenly broke the silence.

Charles looked up at him, staring.

“I mean, I always find it refreshing.” Erik amended.

Charles was still staring.

“Just saying that you look like you need it.”

That was embarrassing.

“Okay.” Charles nodded, looking back down to his almost empty plate.

“You said okay the last time I told you to shower but I didn't notice any change.” Erik said. “You’re letting yourself go and there’s no need for that.”

Charles dropped his fork on the plate. He had his war face on, Erik could tell. “What are you trying to tell me, Erik? That I stink.” he hissed. “Stop visiting then if I’m so repulsive! No one’s dying to have you around every day!”

“All I’m saying is that just because you’re in a fucking wheelchair it doesn’t mean you have to fucking rot in your own stench!” Erik barked back. “Yeah, it sucks you’re like this but you know what? Wash up! Maybe you’ll feel better!”

Charles glared for a moment. The fire in his eyes was back and Erik thought he got the desired effect -- at least he got a response out of the man -- but then Charles' face suddenly fell.

The lines on Erik’s face softened. “Charles?” he looked at him with more concern now. 

“I can’t...” Charles whispered, looking down, avoiding Erik’s gaze.

“What? You can’t what?” Erik asked patiently. He wasn’t shouting anymore, in fact his voice was a picture of care and warmth. It was painful. 

“I can’t do it on my own... It’s really difficult and the last time I tried I—I fell and—“ he could not continue. Erik didn’t force him to either.

“It’s okay. I get it.” Erik said calmly. “I’ll do it.”

Charles blinked at him shocked. “Whaaat?”

“I’ll help you shower.” Erik repeated.

“Erik, you can’t!” Charles blurted out, trying not to show how much his hands were shaking.

“Look, you can’t do it by yourself, and you won’t ask Moira. You refuse to pay someone to do it for you. There’s only one option left.” Erik said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’m here.”  _ Yeah, I couldn’t scare you off, why is that?  _ "I know how to use a shower.”  _ I bet you do! I’ve imagined you in one.  _ “And I honestly can’t stand seeing you like this anymore.”  _ I must look and smell really bad if he’s willing to do that just to get me cleaned up.  _ “So? What do you say? Will you let me shower you?”

Charles remained silent for a moment. Erik thought Charles was considering the proposition, whereas in fact Charles was simply afraid that his voice would make truly embarrassing sounds the moment he opened his mouth.

“Charles, the Congress makes decisions faster than you.” Erik chuckled.

Charles licked his lips. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” he mumbled. “I don’t want it to be awkward or...”

“Why would it be awkward?” Erik asked.

Well, duh! Of course! It’s not going to be awkward for Erik! Erik didn’t have fantasies about Charles last night! 

Charles breathed in deeply. “Just—maybe we shouldn’t...”

“Hey, imagine I’m a nurse if that helps, ok?” Erik smiled.

_ No, that’s not gonna be helpful at all...  _ Charles thought helplessly.


	6. Chapter 6

The water was gently caressing his naked body and Charles wished he could fully enjoy this feeling the way he used to before. But there was something different this time -- he was not alone. Erik was there, bathing him and that was just weird under the circumstances. Erik was guiding the shower headset so that all of Charles would be well washed. Then came the soap. Charles did most of the soaping on his own but occasionally Erik would rub a shoulder, an arm, his chest... Charles felt guilty for the paths his train of thought was taking. He tensed under Erik’s touch.

“Relax." Erik’s voice sounded so far away. "You’re too tense.”

Charles tried to, he really did. It was impossible. The huge mismatch of what was and what he wanted it to be was too much for him. The bathroom mirror offered him a better view of the scene. The parallel was striking: a gorgeous healthy man in his prime and an invalid who needed help to get himself cleaned up. It was pathetic. 

“Relax.” Erik repeated, placing a hand on Charles’ bare shoulder.

Charles shuddered. “You may not understand this, Erik, but it is kind of embarrassing for me.” he admitted, trying to sound calm.

“I understand.” Erik replied. “But your attitude is all wrong. Did you enjoy showers before?”

Was he joking!?

“Yeah.” Charles was trying to keep his sarcasm to himself. “I did shower regularly before when I could walk, if that’s what you’re asking!”

Erik chuckled. “Always with the sense of humor.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Erik, this is ridiculous. Let’s just stop.” He said.

“We haven’t even started properly yet!”

“And we better keep it that way.” Charles insisted. “It’s too weird!”

Erik turned off the water. “Is this because I’m gay?” He asked. He sounded hurt.

“What? No! It’s not because you’re gay! It’s because I’m in a wheelchair, naked in front of a—“ He cut himself off and bit his lip. “Forget it. Just let’s get out of here.”

“There’s still some soap left—“ Erik tried to wash it off but was soon interrupted by Charles who did not even listen to him anymore.

“You don’t have to make sacrifices for me, Erik!” He almost snapped.

“Sacrifices?” Erik repeated, confused.

“You’re wasting enough time on me as it is and frankly I don’t see why!” Charles said, trying to cover himself with the towel nearby. He felt too vulnerable and exposed. 

“It’s not a sacrifice, Charles.” Erik protested, blinking, puzzled and confused.

“Fine! Guilt then! Whatever!” Charles cut him off. “Just because I fancy you it doesn’t mean you have to hang around and waste your time on me! So can we please just stop now?”  

“Haven’t you considered for a moment that maybe I enjoy this?” Erik blurted out.

Charles looked up at him, arching an eyebrow in a very professory way, just as he was half-naked in the shower.

“Oh, God! That sounded better in my head...” Erik stuttered. “I didn’t mean it like  _ that  _ ! I didn’t mean  _ this  _ as in the shower, I meant you,  _ this  _ as in your company.” He took a deep breath. “I enjoy your company, Charles. It started because I felt bad, that much is true, but I really like you and—“

Charles’ treacherous heart was beating so hard it made his ears throb to the point that he could hardly hear a word Erik was saying.  

“Can we maybe talk about it some time when I’m not naked in my shower!?” Charles interrupted and Erik had to admit that he had a point.

“Of course.” Erik said, helping Charles back to his chair. “I’m sorry, Charles.”

"Yes." Charles swallowed. "I'm sorry too."

~*~  

After they got Charles dressed and ready, Erik looked at him expectantly. He was waiting for Charles to tell him it was okay to speak. But Charles could not do that. Charles was not ready to listen to anything. He realized a moment ago he had mentioned that he fancied Erik and that made him feel more ridiculously stupid than ever! Erik was definitely not interested in Charles in that way. It was doubtful Erik would’ve fancied Charles back when Charles could walk, let alone now when he was an invalid! It was all guilt. And Charles painfully felt that he needed more than just that. Erik was not his nurse, and Charles did not want him to be his nurse. He wanted him to be his lover. 

Erik’s eyes were fixed upon Charles as if hoping he could read his mind. No. He could not have this conversation. 

Charles shook his head and asked Erik to leave.

“Charles, I—“ Erik whispered but he got interrupted.

“Please, Erik... no.” Charles looked away. His eyes were beginning to fill with tears again and he could not have that, he could not start sobbing in front of Erik. 

Erik stood there for a moment. Charles could hear his breathing. He could not bear the man’s gaze. 

“Please...” Charles repeated, more quietly, hoping that Erik won’t insist on having this conversation today.

Erik nodded silently and Charles heard his footsteps, then the door closing behind him. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He needed rest. He needed peace. 

~*~ 

“And Scott started slacking too! Feeling like this was a vacation and not a work trip. I had a really hard time keeping those interns under control. But it all ended well.” Moira smiled.

She was back from South Korea and eager to share her experience with her friend. For the last hour and a half now she’s been chatting about work and giving him the gossip. Charles preferred it that way. Her talking meant he didn’t need to talk about himself. So he kept nodding and trying to follow her story but his mind was wandering, somehow always ending up thinking about Erik.

“... and then I told him ‘mutation is not a flaw, Mr. Striker, it’s a natural state of evolution. And with proper research we could find different types of mutations or ways to bring them out into the light.’ He was staring at me like whaaat— Charles? Charles, are you listening at all?”

Charles blinked. “Hmm? What? Oh... um, yeah, yes, of course, I am. Mutation.”

She sighed and sat up a bit. “You’ve been weird all day. I tried ignoring it because I know how much you hate people prodding but… Did something happen while I was gone?” she asked. “I know it’s been like a month since I last visited you, with the trip and then work and all, but I just—” 

“I don’t blame you, Moira. You did well.” Charles cut her off, taking her hand gently in his and forcing himself to smile at her. “It’s nothing, I promise. I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

“Then why—?”

His phone suddenly rang and she let go of Charles’ hand so that he could answer it. The phone was lying on the coffee table so Charles quickly glanced at the screen to check the ID. Then he looked away.

Moira frowned. “Aren’t you gonna get that?” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

But Moira was curious now. She looked at the screen too and read the caller ID.

“Erik!” she exclaimed “As in Erik Lehnsherr!?”

“Does it matter?” Charles sighed exhausted.

The phone stopped ringing. 

Moira tilted her head. “Look, I understand you don’t like him but he’s actually—“

“Why do you think I don’t like him?” Charles looked at her surprised. 

Moira gave him an ‘are you serious’ look and he had to nod in agreement. “Fair point.” After all he did make sure everybody knew just how much he disliked Erik. But that was so long ago… 

He sighed. “Well, that is not true anymore.” He said “We actually spent some time together as you know and... Erik’s not a bad guy.”

Moira was listening curiously.

“He made a mistake, that’s all. It could’ve been anybody.” Charles concluded and looked away, out the window.  

“You mean, the mistake when he hit you with his car and left you paralyzed?” She asked.

“Yes, Moira, exactly that.” He said, a bit annoyed. Why did she have to say the words? Was she trying to hurt him? It was working. 

“But Charles, he didn’t do it!” Moira blurted out with a smile.

Charles furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about, Moira? Of course he did.”

“Nope!” she grinned and shook her head. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you because we avoided talking about your accident but I feel like you really need to know that now.” Charles looked at her, perplexed. “Erik didn’t hit you with his car, Charles, it was one of his students!”

It took Charles some time to understand her words. “H-how do you know this?” he managed to ask.

Moira was happy to explain. “Well, I've always known. He did give statements and all. It was indeed Erik’s car that hit you, but it wasn’t Erik behind the wheel. It was the guy he was teaching at the time. In fact,” she continued, “Erik tried to steer the car in a different direction when he saw you crossing the road, he got some wrist injury while doing so. But apparently things happened too quickly so he failed to-- well, stop the events from happening.”

So many pieces suddenly fit in Charles’ mind upon hearing Moira. Moments, words, glances, little nuances of Erik’s behavior towards him; they all joined in to paint one complete picture. Erik wasn’t the villain! It wasn’t Erik’s fault at al! It was stupid but Charles' heart felt lighter at that thought!

He had forgiven Erik some time ago. He was furious at him at first, that was true, but then he was just annoyed by Erik’s persistence to help him. He was annoyed because he assumed Erik was doing it out of guilt. Yet he enjoyed the refreshing manner in which Erik treated him, the way he made him feel like equals because they  _ were  _ equals. It was too precious a feeling to let go of so he let it happen, he let Erik pass through his defenses and become a vital part of Charles’ life. He let himself enjoy Erik’s company, he waited for Erik’s visits with anticipation. They talked, played chess, danced, watched movies, ate together, they hung out. Charles wasn’t sure when exactly he had forgiven Erik for hitting him with his car, but he had. And at one point he even-- Yes, why deny it? At some point he had fallen in love with Erik. 

“Charles?” Moira pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Moira, can you please go now?” Charles said, voice shaking. “I need to be alone for a while.”

“Oh.” Moira was puzzled. 

“I’m sorry. I just need to be alone now.” 

She nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you later, dear.” She kissed him friendly on the cheek and left.

~*~ 

Erik did not hit him with his car, Erik’s student did. This information was repeating in Charles’ head over and over again. Erik did not hit him with his car, Erik’s bloody student did!

Of course this was important to Charles! Not so much because he needed an excuse for Erik. It wasn’t even the need to know that the man he loved was not the same man who paralyzed him. It was something far more important! When Erik insisted on helping Charles, Charles assumed he was doing it out of guilt. That was the obvious conclusion, was it not? But this new information changed so many things now. All that time Erik spent with Charles, helping Charles, healing Charles emotionally, metaphorically putting Charles back on his feet, Charles thought Erik did it to clear his conscience. But if he wasn’t the one responsible for Charles’ condition, then why would he even feel guilty? Sure, it was his car and he was in the car when it happened but it wasn’t his fault. He even injured his wrist trying to help. It wasn’t guilt then. It was something else. Bt what? If it wasn’t guilt then what? Erik wasn’t obligated to do anything for Charles. Erik wasn’t responsible for Charles! So why would Erik be so persistent? Could it be that Erik  _ actually cared _ ? Was that it? 

He had been quite attentive. Even at the period when they spent most of their time arguing. All those tender looks, they weren’t pity? All the reassuring words, they weren’t compassion? The comforting hugs, the laughter, the cooking, all that wasn’t charity? It was genuine? Erik cared about him. Charles dared not hope that Erik felt more than friendship for him, but even so, he still needed to talk to him, hear him out! He missed Erik and he didn’t want to lose Erik. So if there was even the slightest chance-- Charles had to take it!  

He picked up his phone but when it started to ring, he quickly hung up. He did not trust his voice. He decided to text. 

_ It’s okay to come visit me again. CX _

Wasn’t that a bit too presumptuous? Like he was taking it for granted that of course Erik would want to visit him, a text-invitation from Charles was the only thing he was waiting for! So he added:

_ If you still want to, naturally. CX _

Now all he had to do was wait.


	7. Chapter 7

Erik was back at his usual time. Charles’ heart skipped a beat upon hearing the noise of Erik opening the door, hanging his coat, putting the groceries in the kitchen and joining Charles in the study. Yes, he missed that and now when he heard it again he felt his heart leap. 

Erik showed at the door like he did that first day he came to Charles’ flat. He did not get inside though, remaining at the doorframe as if something was stopping him.

“Erik.” Charles greeted him. “So good to see you again.” 

He said, sounding mostly normal.

“Good to see you, too.” Erik mumbled under his breath. He seemed… awkward. Like he wasn’t sure how to behave. 

“You can come in, y’know.” Charles reminded him.

Erik did so, taking the place opposite Charles as he usually did when they were playing chess. It was just as Charles had pictured it but then suddenly he realized he had forgotten all the little speeches he had prepared in his head. His mind went blank. 

Erik took advantage of the silence and spoke first.

“Charles, about what I said last week... I’m sorry that I freaked you out.” 

Charles frowned. Freak him out? When did Erik freak him out? It was Charles who freaked Erik out with his stupid slip of the tongue and his silly nervousness and emotions and feelings. 

Erik continued. “I really hope you don’t hate me for that. I promise I never took advantage of the situation! I never even considered taking advantage of anything!”

Now Charles had to interrupt him. “Taking advantage? Erik, what are you talking about?”

Erik blinked a few times. “Well... For what I said in the shower.” 

Charles was still confused what did Erik do wrong there? 

“I told you I liked you...?” Erik supplied generously.

“You said you liked my company.” Charles amended.

“I’m pretty sure I said I liked you too.” Erik insisted.

“No, no, no.” Charles raised his finger. “You said _ my company _ .”

“Doesn’t that mean  _ you  _ as well?”

“Not exactly. Besides, why would that freak me out? Lots of people like me. I’ll have you know I’m a very likeable person.”

Erik rolled his eyes “You don’t say.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Charles fake-pouted. Things were beginning to feel normal again. Was that good enough? Or did Charles want more? Charles wanted more but could he live with less? 

“Don’t be silly, Charles. I  _ like you _ like you.”

What was this, fifth grade!? But then again, what did Erik just say?

“You what.”

“You mean so much to me, Charles!” Erik was suddenly really close to him, face to face at eye level.  _ He must be kneeling on the floor _ , Charles thought distantly but could hardly make himself to think at the moment. “The more I got to know you, the more precious you became to me. But I promise I wasn't taking advantage of you, I really only meant to help!" Charles was listening in astonishment. "I mean" Erik continued, looking like a dork, "I cannot deny that I have certain hopes... And I'm not forcing them on you! Not at all! But I’m sure we can be really happy together, Charles!”

“Huh?” Charles articulated. 

Erik started listing things that they would be able to do as a couple. All those sweet romantic ridiculous nonsense that people in love do. Walks in the park and lazy sunday mornings, that sort of thing. It was painful to listen.

Charles shut his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Erik, I may never walk again.” He blurted out desperately, interrupting Erik’s little speech. 

“I know.” Erik said simply.

Charles blinked puzzled. “What?” 

“I spoke to Hank.” Erik explained.

“When?”

“After taking you home that day from your therapy session. You seemed so upset I needed to know if everything was alright. I returned to the clinic and Hank and I talked about your condition.” His voice was surprisingly calm as he spoke. Charles could only listen as Erik continued. “I know exactly what your chances of walking again are. I want you, Charles. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t care if you can walk or not, I just want  _ you _ .”

Charles tried to speak, he really did try!

Erik took Charles’ hands in his own. They were warm and gentle and yet he could feel their strength too. “I want you by my side, Charles.” He said in a low, passionate voice. “You and me! I want you and me together. I want us to give this a chance. I want to be with you. I want to face life with you. Can we do this, Charles? Can you give us a chance?”

“I—“ Charles’ voice cracked, he had to clear his throat first or he’d embarrass himself terribly by squeaking his reply. “I don’t know.” He almost whispered.

Erik’s face fell a little. He was disappointed. He actually wanted to be with Charles? 

“I can do this.” Erik assured. “I can make you happy. I know I can because I’ve been so happy for these past months I spent with you. The happiest I’ve been in years.”

“That was different.” Charles dared to disagree.  

Of course, they had a great time as friends but it would be much different if they tried to be lovers. There were many obstacles that made it difficult for them to actually date. Charles wasn’t sure he could do this properly. He  _ wanted  _ it but he was terrified of screwing it all up. Could he even give Erik everything he’d need from their relationship? “Charles, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t care if you’re in the wheelchair or walking!” Erik blurted out as if reading his mind. “I care about what’s here” he placed his hand on Charles’ chest where Charles’ heart was beating like crazy, “and here.” he then placed his hand on Charles’ head, stroking Charles’ messy hair gently. “I love you, Charles! I love everything about you! Please, let me love everything about you. I want to wake up with you in the morning, I want to hold you tight as we both fall asleep, I want to see these eyes looking up at me every day, I want to hear your voice, I want to feel your touch. I want to feel  _ you _ . I want to make you smile and I want to be here for the tears. I want you by my side, Charles! I want you and everything that comes with it.”

Charles felt a tear fall down his cheek. “Erik, I--” he stuttered, desperately trying to compose himself. He was crying! It was ridiculous! “I’m not--” 

A shadow passed through Erik’s face. “Unless… unless you don’t want me, of course.” 

Charles swallowed. 

Erik let out a saddened breath. “You don’t feel the same about me. I understand.” he shook his head, saddened. “I’m sorry. I thought perhaps there was a chance that you might-- But that’s alright. I’ll go now and when I return I’ll be ready to be your friend again.”

Erik was about to leave and Charles had to stop him! 

“Erik, no!” he gasped. 

Erik seemed even more broken now. “You don’t want me to be your friend anymore? Because of my feelings? Charles, I promise I can get that under control!” 

“No, no! It’s nothing like that at all! I love you!” Charles blurted out before he could catch himself. Realizing what he’d just said, he bit his lips hard. “I mean I-- I feel very strongly for you and--” he stuttered in an attempt to smooth things up a bit. Who just vomits an I love you all over the person they loved like that!? 

Erik didn’t seem to mind. His face brightened up instantly. “You love me?” 

Charles could feel his heart beating like crazy, pumping all that blood to his head and ears. His hands were trembling slightly. 

“I-- sort of do?” he stuttered as if caught in the act. 

He hid his face with the palms of his hands. This was so embarrassing! But when he opened his eyes to look at Erik he saw the man was practically beaming at him. 

“So you love me too?” he asked, his voice sounding more tender than Charles had ever heard it before. And was Erik crying too? His eyes were surely more watery than usual. 

“I love you.” 

It felt good to say it out loud. It felt even better to hear it back. 

“I love you too, Charles!” 

The moment didn’t last long. Charles’ anxiety quickly caught up with all the joy, ready to ruin it. 

“But I might never be able to walk again. I don’t even know if I’m physically capable of handling an intimate relationship. I haven’t tried to-- You deserve better, Erik. You deserve--” 

“Charles?” 

“Huh?” 

“Shut up.” Erik said fondly and pressed his lips to Charles’ mouth and before Charles knew it he was kissing back fiercely. 

The kiss was just what Charles needed to calm down. It grounded him and it made him feel lighter at the same time. It excited him in a way he never thought he could ever feel. It was like he could lose and find himself in this kiss and it was perfect! 

When they finally pulled away to breathe Charles was much more optimistic about them dating. He grinned. 

“Are you sure you want this though? As far as I remember you once described me as a pain in the ass.” 

Erik chuckled amused. “I’m pretty sure I said  _ neck _ . I said you were a pain in the  _ neck _ .” 

“Hmm, I could be a pain in your ass too, y’know.” Charles smirked, tilting his head

slightly. 

Erik’s cheeks flushed and his face did a strange thing, his lips parting slightly as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. Did he just embarrass Erik with his unceremonious flirting??? This was too adorable! 

Charles tilted his head, looking Erik in the eyes. “Erik? Did I break you?” 

“Umm…” Erik was blushing even harder now. “A little. Maybe.” 

Charles laughed joyfully. “I love you, you dork!” 

“I love you too.” Erik smiled sheepishly. 

“You were so eloquent a moment ago but you’re just a cuddly teddy bear, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, hush.” Erik grinned and pressed another kiss to Charles’ lips. 

“How about we celebrate our new relationship? I have a lovely bottle of really good scotch at home. I should bring it here. Or you could come to my place for a change.” 

Charles’ eyes went wide. 

“It was you!” 

Erik was puzzled. “What?” 

“The scotch in the hospital! The only good thing in that bloody hospital room! You left the bottle of scotch there for me, didn’t you? Hidden behind a bouquet?” 

"Oh, that? I thought you knew it was me. Who did you thought left it there for you?"

The doctors, Charles was about to reply but then realized the idiocy of that supposition. Instead he wrapped his arms around _ his Erik _ \-- yes, he could now call him  _ his Erik  _ \-- and beamed at him. 

“It’s official. You always know what I need! I love you, Erik! I can't promise you everything in life will always be perfect and cheerful for us but I damn well want to share it with you!"

“That’s all I want too.”

Whatever the future brought them, Charles was certain of one thing -- life would definitely be much sweeter with Erik by his side. Having Erik near him made him feel stronger and braver already. Maybe he could even gather his courage to call Raven and tell her of his accident. Erik was right that she deserved to know. And Charles had to be brave enough to face Raven's reaction. Furthermore, he was beginning to feel like he wasn't broken anymore. His wheelchair didn't make him weak or broken, it made him stronger, more enduring. For the first time Charles thought of the day of his accident as the luckiest instead of the worst day of his life. For he truly was lucky to have survived that day and being paralyzed was a small price to pay in order to have a life again. And it wasn't just about him anymore. It was about Erik as well. Charles felt like he had something to offer Erik, to make Erik happy. He was full of love and he wanted to spread it, share it, feel it always. As he held Erik in his embrace Charles felt certain that his life was definitely far from over, it was just beginning and the best was always yet to come! 

Life is a long never-ending journey of self-discovery and learning. Unimportant, pointless things often cloud our horizon. In the mist of life lucky are the ones who at some point get to realize what means the most. 


End file.
